Initial D: Side Stage
by Eric Shields
Summary: A street racing prodigy burns out at the the height of his career against Ryosuke Takahashi. Can the once bright flame of desire be reborn by an old 86, the wise legendary technician of Akina, and his son?
1. Halfway Around the World

**_Initial D_**

**__**

**(Author's note: For sake of ease, I'll put it here. Whenever Takumi speaks, or is spoken to by Eric or the Red Suns, it's in Japanese. When the story shifts to Japan, everyone will be speaking in Japanese, this way when/if an American comes along who doesn't understand you'll know why he's confused. **

**Disclaimer: No, I don't own Initial D, that honor belongs to Shuichii Shigeno. Nor do I own Mazda, Toyota, Nissan, Mitsubishi, Honda, Subaru or any car company for that matter, it'd be a scary thing if I did though.)**

**__**

**_Chapter One: Halfway Around the World_**

**__**

"Damn!"

The black GT-R came to a halt at the bottom of the mountain road, the tail lights of the car that had just beaten it slowing down a bit farther in front of him.

"Yahoo! The undefeated streak for the Speed Stars continues!" Itsuki shouted from his vantage point, jumping and pumping his fist in the air.

"I swear he can't lose!" Kouichirou giggled like a schoolgirl as their 'secret weapon' stopped next to them, the driver of which stepped out.

"Chalk up another on Takumi's bumper! To think, my best friend is the single greatest driver in all of Gunma prefecture," Itsuki glowed with admiration at his friend, Takumi Fujiwara.

Takumi was just a regular 18-year-old teenager, except when he got behind the wheel of his Trueno AE 86. He pumped gas at a gas station not too far from his house/father's business in a small town in Gunma Prefecture, Japan. There wasn't much to do, except school, the local arcade, and of course, Akina Mountain.

If you had your license and a good car, you went up Mt. Akina every chance you got to take on the corners and test your skills as a driver. The local street racing team, the Akina Speed Stars, are the fastest on the mountain, namely because they're the only team ON the mountain. They were a mediocre team with mediocre drivers, that is, until the top street team in Gunma, the Akagi Red Suns, stepped up and challenged the Speed Stars. After scouting out the Speed Starts and the road, the top two drivers, Keisuke and Ryosuke, the Takahashi Brothers, figured they didn't need to go all out, but Ryosuke wanted Keisuke to race so he could set a time that the locals could never beat. It didn't exactly happen that way.

On the way back from issuing the challenge, a car came up behind Keisuke Thinking it was one of his teammates, he slowed down, only to notice that it was an old, beat-up Trueno 86 hatchback. Deciding to have a little fun, Keisuke blocked the 86 and toyed with him, until the 86 flew into a turn, feinting right then inertia drifting left around the next corner. Keisuke couldn't handle it, spun out, and became obsessed with the 86. On the night of the race, the 86 showed up (thanks to a little cajoling from Kouichirou Iketani), along with its driver, Takumi Fujiwara. Takumi demonstrated the control he had over the 86 by blowing past Keisuke and his RX-7 FD in the hairpins. The Speed Stars just got put on the map, and from there on out, it's been one win after another.

"I just drive like I normally do; I don't know why you guys think it's such a big deal. My old man promised me another full tank of gas if I beat him, and I needed the gas," Takumi said.

"Why? Got another hot date with Natsuki that I can't tag along on," Itsuki said acting upset.

"No, gas is cheaper here than it is in the States."

Nothing but blank stares accompanied Takumi's statement.

"Oh, that's right, I never told you guys. I'm going to the United States for a month, my old man told me that there's some kind of street racing tournament there. He said if I win, I get what I always wanted."

"What's that," Kenji asked.

"My own car."

_Meanwhile, halfway around the world, in a small town in New York…_

"Hey Eric."

"What's up, Mike?"

"You think you could take a look at my car tonight? She's not sounding right and I need to get the rest of the guys together, got some news I want to share with everyone."

"Yeah, sure. What's the big news?"

"You'll have to wait and find out, hell, even YOU might be interested in it."

"I keep telling you, I'm a mechanic now man."

"Uh-huh, keep telling yourself that. Anyway, just be at the usual place in an hour."

"Sure, but I gotta go get myself that new car, so I might be a little late."

"About damn time, it's only been two years since I've seen you-"

"Yeah, I know. I'll seeya later."

Eric closed his cell phone, a hand running through his black tresses. He sat on his bed and slipped his shoes on, wincing a bit as he sat back up.

"Damn, does that every time."

He slowly got to his feet, stretching and wincing at the same time before he worked his way downstairs.

"I'm heading out to get my car mom! I'll be back late!"

"Ok dear, be careful, it's getting dark out!"

"I know, I know," Eric said as he shut the door behind him. He went to the garage and took his bicycle out, hopping on and pedaling off towards the address printed in the car ad. On the way there, he remembered the small fight his mother had put up about the car.

_"Hon, it's a beat-up….," she squinted to read the name of the car, "Toyota? It's a beat-up Toyota, plus look at the year. It's old, too. You can find something better for your money."_

_ "But look at it. Only 80,000 miles, no problems, and it's cheap."_

_ "Hon, are you sure?"_

_ "Absolutely."_

"I think this is the place." He stopped at a small house, the Toyota in the ad sitting off to the side of the driveway. He dumped his bike on the side of the road and made his way to the door, azure gaze looking around the well-kept yard while a hand drifted through his onyx locks.

"Nice place, don't see too many brick-faced buildings around here anymore."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

Eric quickly turned to see a man standing at the door, puffing on a cigarette.

"Uh…hi, I'm Eric; I came about the ad for the Toyota in the paper…"

"You lookin' to buy it?" The man took another drag off his cigarette, stepping off the stoop and walking towards Eric.

"Actually yeah, I am, price the same as it was in the paper?"

"Yup, $1,000."

"Great," Eric produced a wad of bills from his pocket and handed them to the man, "should be $1,000 there."

The man counted the money, taking a long drag off the smoke as he did so.

"Yup, it's all here," the man reached into his back pocket and produced the title to the car, "it's yours, free and clear. Here are the keys."

Eric calmly took the keys from the man, "thanks, 'preciate doing business with you."

"Likewise, just take good care of her," the man finished his cigarette and dropped it in front of him, stomping it out, before he walked back into the house.

Eric could only smirk as he unlocked the door and slid into the driver's seat.

"Now, let's see if I remember how to do this."

Eric looked down and noticed that it was a manual.

"Hmph, manual to boot, guess I gotta re-teach myself faster than I thought."

Eric put his left hand on the stick, shifted into reverse and began to back out of the driveway, turning so he was facing the correct way to go.

"Ok, I think I remember how to do this now."

Eric pressed the clutch, held the brake, and shifted into first before pressing the accelerator. Just then…..the car started forward.

"Excellent."

It took a moment, but he managed to shift.

"I should be able to get used to this again. I can't believe how much I still remember."

_"A street racer never forgets, just loses his edge."_

Eric smiled as he remembered those words.

"Yeah, but this racer's retired. A short and sweet career of a whole six months."

After taking a few laps around the neighborhood to get his driving legs back, he started off towards the meeting place.

An hour later, Eric was pulling up to a deserted stretch of road out in East Hampton.

"Woah, you finally got a new car?"

Eric closed the door behind him and locked it, "Yeah, but I wouldn't call it new."

"Still, old or not, that's some nice taste."

"So," Eric looked around at the gathered crew of Mike, himself, Jake, Matt and Rick, "what's with the sudden meeting?"

"That'd be my doing," Mike said and stepped forward. He wasn't a half-bad-looking person, but his time with his car cut into his social life. He was scruffy and bulky, but he was nice guy overall, except on the quarter-mile.

"I got some news I wanted to share with all of you. Turns out that some underground racing circuit is sponsoring an SRT."

Mutters began to move through the group as they talked in hushed tones.

"A Street Racing Tournament, really?" Jake was the first one to speak, "How? They think they can hold one and not have the cops interfere?"

"Apparently so, they're offering $10,000 cash to the winner."

"They're offering WHAT?!" Matt nearly fell down upon hearing the figure, "That's some serious jack!"

Mike spoke up again, "Yeah, I know, supposedly they got racers from all over the world going, even some from Japan."

The guys could only snicker as he said that.

"But man, think about it, it's an AMERICAN tournament, sure they can drift in Japan, but they don't have the muscle to run the quarter-mile like we do."

"Well, therein lies the problem guys," Mike sighed and leaned back against his car, "it not American street racing. It's togue."

An even louder mutter ran through the small group at this.

"Togue," Rick spoke this time, "are you serious? I mean shit man if it were quarters I'd say we go for it, but togue man? We'd have to completely re-tune our cars!"

"I know, and I don't know about the rest of you, but I plan on re-working my entire car, driving upstate and paying the $1,000 buy-in to give this a shot. With Eric in my corner as my mechanic, we can do this," Mike turned to Eric at that point, "right man?"

Eric looked up at that moment, still leaning against his Toyota.

"As long as I'm not racing, I'm in your corner, man."

"Excellent! I knew you wouldn't let me down!"

Eric smiled and chuckled slightly as he shook his head.

"So, when's the meet?"

"Two weeks, think you can pop the hood tonight and see what's wrong with her, then come by tomorrow and we can start tuning her?"

"Yeah, sure," Eric said.

Matt spoke then, "You always were really into the whole togue and drifting scene."

"Because it's pure racing, not just how many horses you got under the hood or how fast you can slam a quarter."

"Yeah, we know, you've told us before. I'm happy with quarter-miles myself, I mean just look what happened to you-"

Eric slowly turned and stared Matt in the eyes.

"Man, I'm sorry, that's not how I meant it. I meant it like, you know, what happened to you can happen to anyone togue racing."

Eric leaned back against the car, "S'ok."

"So," Mike interjected, trying to change the subject, "how about we get a few timed runs in before we pack it in, huh?"


	2. White Comet, Black Wreck

**_Chapter Two: White Comet, Black Wreck_**

**__**

Eric slammed down the hood to Mike's 3000 GT and wiped his forehead with his sleeve.

"That should do it, the throttle was sticking when it got pushed past a certain point, I'd say around 8500 RPMs from the wear on it and knowing how hard you push your machine. It should be fine now, but I'll take another look at it tomorrow to make sure it'll stay fine for the race."

"Hey thanks, I can't believe I didn't pick up on the throttle sticking."

"Probably because in a race, you don't think about it, or feel it, you just worry about slamming the quarter faster than the guy next to you. After the race is over and you're braking, I'd suspect that the sudden deceleration jarred the throttle enough to un-stick it, thus the reason you never knew."

"Jeez man, that's amazing. With all that knowledge up in there, you'd be a killer driver. You sure you don't want to reconsider participating in the SRT?"

Eric leaned against the hood of Mike's car, a hand running through his hair.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I screw up, and next time it might be more than my back that gets all messed up."

Mike only shook his head, putting a hand on Eric's shoulder.

"You can't let one accident keep you from racing. You were good man, REAL good; probably the best togue racer in the States, and you'd only been driving six months! If anyone has a shot at winning the SRT, it's you. C'mon, you can't tell me that you're not thinking about that $10,000 prize, that alone should be enough to get your motor running."

"$10,000 means nothing to me if I'm dead, man."

Mike sighed and fished his keys out of his pocket.

"I guess you're right, but still, you were the best, even if it was only for a few months."

Eric shrugged, "it's in the past man, and besides, no matter how good I am, there's gotta be someone better than me out there."

Mike unlocked his car and slid into the driver's seat.

"Maybe, maybe not. Can you be by at around noon tomorrow? I wanna get a good amount of time in under the hood and maybe test out how she'll run."

"Yeah sure, but are you sure you want to use the 3000 GT? It's not exactly meant for mountain racing, it could be dangerous."

"Yeah I'm sure, man! Trust me, no one can drive a 3000 GT like me, on or off mountains."

Eric shrugged and sighed, "Alright man, if that's what you want, I'll be by tomorrow."

"Great! Seeya then!"

Mike put the key in the ignition and was soon nothing but a set of tail lights in Eric's field of vision.

Eric got home that night, tossing the keys to his car onto his dresser. He didn't even bother getting out of his clothes before lying down on his bed, falling asleep within minutes.

April 15th, 1994. 10 p.m.

_"If the spotters are in position, we'll start the countdown."_

_ The walkie-talkie he held gave a burst of static before voices could be heard, saying they were ready and they could begin the countdown anytime._

_ Eric couldn't believe he was here, in Japan of all places, accepting a challenge he got issued in the mail. Apparently the way he was tearing up the American togue circuit was making the rounds all over, including the togue racing capital of the world, Japan. He sat behind the wheel of his black RX-7, revving the engine to get it warmed. He gripped the steering wheel hard, going over the course again in his mind; he'd only been on it for three days before the night of the race. Now it all came down to one final run on Akagi. He looked over at his opponent in the white RX-7 FC, calmly sitting there as if he was about to leave for a leisurely summer drive. Eric let out a long breath._

_ "You're ok man, you're cool. It's just another course, don't let your emotions get in the way, just drive like you always do, cold, calculating, and with no mercy."_

_ Eric focused on the course once he heard Kent start counting down from ten._

_ "Here we go, the best Gunma has to offer against me, rotary against rotary."_

_ At the count of five, one of the members of the team spoke through the glass of Eric's RX-7._

_ "Don't worry, everyone loses to the Red Suns and the Takahashi Brothers, be glad you're gonna lose to the best of them!"_

_ Eric grinned and cracked his knuckles._

_ "Time to rock."_

_"GO!"_

_ Both Eric and Ryosuke Takahashi, the White Comet of Akagi, hit the gas and sped off into the night, neck and neck off the line._

_ Even Eric had heard of the Takahashi Brothers, the Kings of the Rotary Engine. Every big street racing magazine from Japan to the States had covered them and their team, the Akagi Red Suns, some even touted them as the fastest racers on the Kanto Plain. The Takahashi Brothers, Keisuke and Ryosuke, both drove RX-7s, Keisuke driving an FD, Ryosuke an FC, both extremely modified and specifically tuned for mountain racing. Keisuke was the number two driver on the team, with his brother being the best, and most analytical. He would tail on opponent for a short while, and in that short while, he absorbed everything about his opponent, from what his weaknesses were and were his faults lay, to how much power was under the hood of his challenger's car and how worn the tires were. He was a living, breathing, street racing computer, and it was a combination that had made him undefeated in his many years as a street racer. Eric now hoped to break the myth that Ryosuke Takahashi was undefeatable._

_ They hit the corner at the same time, both of them turning hard to the left, drifting into the turn. They both came out of the turn at the same time, but Ryosuke pulled ahead slightly on the short straightaway leading to the next turn. Ryosuke hit the turn a bit before Eric did, Eric drifting through but Ryosuke gripped the turn, gaining even more of a lead on Eric._

_ "Damn! He's beating me out of the turns! Plus he knows the course better than I do, I shoulda gripped along with him."_

_ This exchange continued for most of the race, Eric tightening his technique with every turn until, two-thirds of the way into the race, he actually started gaining on Ryosuke out of the turns._

_ "Damn, this kid's good," Ryosuke said as he blew into the next turn, not needing to look in his rear-view mirror to know he was there. Ryosuke came out of the turn, and when he did, Eric was nowhere in sight, until, that is, he pulled up alongside Ryosuke, maybe a half of a car length behind him._

_ "If I'm gonna make my move, I gotta make it now!"_

_ Eric figured if he could grip the next turn, he'd force Ryosuke to have to grip as well, since he was cutting off his drift line. Eric hit the brakes to slow down enough take the corner, and just he started to turn, all the traction his tires had just went away and he began to spin._

_ "Wh-what? Dammit, no! What happened? Between my speed and how good my tires were holding up, I shouldn't be spinning!"_

_ Eric did what he could, but it wasn't enough as his back bumper clipped the guardrail, spinning him into the rock wall of the mountain. He began to slide sideways until the car finally flipped, rolling over the roof and landing back onto its tires, Eric unconscious in the driver's seat._

_ "Looks like you're finally awake, Mr. Shields."_

_ Eric slowly opened his eyes, looking around the room for a moment before focusing on the face above him._

_ "Where am I?"_

_ "You're in Takahara Hospital, Mr. Shields; you were in a car accident."_

_ It was then that Eric remembered Ryosuke, the turn, the loss of traction, and then….that was it._

_ "What happened exactly? I can't remember."_

_ "Well, when the ambulance arrived, it looked like your car had flipped, and from what we saw, it looked like you smacked into the guardrail and then the mountainside before flipping."_

_ "Oh," was all Eric could manage. He was still groggy, and his back felt like a mess._

_ "Please don't try and move, you're back was badly bruised in the crash, with some bone bruises on the spine itself."_

_ "How long have I been out?"_

_ "Almost two weeks."_

_ "Two weeks? Christ, I gotta call my mom at home, she's gonna be worried sick!"_

_ "It's ok, we've informed her already, you just worry about getting better."_

_ The nurse left the room, leaving Eric all to himself._

_ "Y'know man, it coulda been worse, you could be dead," Eric spoke to himself as a way to try and kill the boredom._

_ "That's it, no more. I don't care if Ryosuke stays undefeated until he's fifty, he can stay that way. I'm done. It's not worth my life."_

_ As much as Eric told himself he was done with street racing, and even though it landed him in a hospital thousands of miles away from his home, somewhere in the back of his mind, he couldn't let go of that fact that he screwed up somewhere, that he caused himself to spin._

_ "There's no way, no way it was me, but….what other explanation is there? Maybe you just lost your edge."_

_ It was two more weeks before he got out of the hospital. The car was wrecked, bought by some guy in Gunma Prefecture for a great price. Eric's pride was shot, his instincts gone. The first thing he did was have the taxi take him to the airport and caught the next flight home._

_ That was two years ago, but it still seemed like yesterday to him._


	3. The Phantom 86 of Akina

**_Chapter Three: The Phantom 86 of Akina_**

**__**

The two weeks leading up to the tournament went by about as fast as every day did, with only small breaks in-between to help Mike tune his car. Eric tried talking Mike out of driving the 3000 GT, but he would have none of it, claiming that no one could drive a 3000 GT like he did. Eric could only sigh, fine-tuning his car, knowing that once he hit his first turn at too high a speed, that would be it, the car would spin and that'd be all she wrote. But, he kept working on it anyway, part of him hoping that maybe, just maybe, Mike could really work the GT and win.

On the way up, Mike and Eric talked non-stop about cars. What kind of cars might be there, what kind of car has the best shot at winning, who might show up, all sorts of theoretical questions, none of which could be answered solidly until Mike decided to change the subject.

"Y'know, you never did tell me what happened two years ago. All I know was that you disappeared for five weeks, came back minus your RX-7 and had a bad back."

Eric turned his head to Mike, slightly surprised at his bluntness.

"I don't really want to get into it, man."

"C'mon, you've kept me in the dark for two years! I won't let it leave this car, I swear."

Eric sighed, shifting in his seat, as if his back knew what they were talking about.

"I went to Japan-"

"You went to Japan?"

"You gonna let me finish?"

"Yeah, sorry."

"I went to Japan because I got a challenge in the mail from the Takahashi Brothers."

Mike nearly went off the road at this point.

"THE Takahashi Brothers? The Kings of the Rotary Engine?"

"Yeah, THE Takahashi Brothers. To make a long story short, I raced Ryosuke Takahashi, and just when I started getting the upper hand, somewhere around two-thirds of the way through the race, something happened going into a turn. I lost traction, clipped the guardrail, clipped the mountainside and flipped. The RX-7 was wrecked; I woke up two weeks later in the hospital with bone bruises on my lower spine. It took me two more weeks to get out, realize that the car had been sold at a bargain price to some guy and catch a cab to the airport to take the first flight home."

Mike was quiet for a while before he spoke again.

"Damn man, I'm sorry. I can't blame you for not wanting to race, a crash like that'd screw with anyone's head."

"It was partly the crash's fault that I don't race anymore, but the main thing is that, somewhere, somehow, I screwed up. Somehow I miscalculated my tire grip or something, and it caused me to crash. I lost my edge, and I won't take the risk of screwing up worse down the line."

Mike slowed down as they turned into the parking lot meeting place.

"You ever think that maybe it wasn't your fault?"

Eric didn't answer him as he got out of the car, looking around at the sheer amount of people that had showed, easily 100 or more.

"I still can't believe the cops haven't noticed the sudden influx of high-performance cars," Eric said, slowly taking in the various makes and models.

"They won't, we made sure of it."

Both Eric and Mike turned around at the sound of the voice behind them, Mike opening his mouth while stepping in front of Eric, about to speak.

"So, you're the one who organized the tournament," Mike said, leaning against his machine.

The blonde-haired man smirked, running a hand through his locks before he answered.

"Yes and no. This whole thing was my brother's idea; I just helped him with it."

Mike was about to speak again when Eric stepped out from behind him.

"Ran out of challengers over in Japan, Keisuke Takahashi?"

Keisuke stepped back a half-step, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of his brother's ex-rival.

"Eric, I didn't expect to see you here, I thought that your crash was enough to make you run from street racing for the rest of your life."

"Yeah, well, you're only half-right Keisuke; I don't race anymore, I'm just a mechanic."

Keisuke raised his brow and cocked his head towards Mike, "your latest job, then?"

Mike stepped forward, waving his hands in front of him.

"Hold it, hold it, hold it. You're telling me that this is THE Keisuke Takahashi?"

Eric nodded slowly, "Yeah, this is THE Keisuke Takahashi. Where's Ryosuke?"

Keisuke thumbed the air behind him, "He's making last minute preparations, cordoning off the road, making sure the police don't bother us."

Eric nodded, "Start time?"

Keisuke rolled up the sleeve to his hoodie, glancing down at his watch, "Two hours."

Eric turned to Mike, "C'mon, man, I want to change the air pressure of your tires on the GT before the start, you'll need all the grip you can get."

Mike nodded, opening the trunk and getting his tire pressure gauge out, along with a small, battery-operated air compressor.

"Eric!"

Eric looked up at Keisuke, who had stopped halfway back to his yellow RX-7.

"At least you lost to the best of them."

Eric said nothing as he slid down next to the front right tire, taking off the cap to the air hole.

"Smug little bastard, isn't he," Mike commented as me moved to check the tires air pressure.

"He's got every right to be. Keisuke, Ryosuke, the entire Red Suns team. They're all smug, but they have the skill to back it up," Eric let out some air of the tire, then checked it with the gauge, "add about an extra .2 PSI."

Mike flicked on the compressor, attaching the nozzle to the tires, then taking it off and shutting the machine down.

"I'm just surprised they're here in America. I mean damn, how much cash can they have to come over here, transport their cars, pay the cops off and STILL offer a $10,000 cash prize?"

Eric just shrugged, "I'm not surprised they're here. Their dad owns a hospital in Takahara, and they're both going for their medical degree. They've got the cash, and they probably just ran out of challenges in Japan. With the money they have, it's the next logical step as far as competition goes. Although….."

Mike sat back, quirking an eyebrow at Eric.

"Although what?"

Eric rested his head against the car, furrowing his brow as he tried to remember.

"I'd been hearing rumors lately all over the internet. Something like a month ago or so I caught wind of it, something about Ryosuke Takahashi losing."

Mike started at this, gasping audibly.

"There's no way it can be true, absolutely no way. Ryosuke Takahashi does NOT lose."

"Easy Mike," Eric said, "I know. I wrote it off at first as garbage, but this thing just refused to die until finally, I found out the make and model of the car that supposed beat the White Comet of Akagi."

"Yeah? What was it?"

Eric smirked, "A Trueno AE86."

Mike blinked twice before he burst out laughing.

"Right! An old, busted up 86 beat Ryosuke's FC? Whoever started the rumor had to have been crazed!"

"Don't be so sure. We've both heard crazier things before that were true; and besides, an 86 might not be much, but with the right tuning, a good chunk of change, and the right driver, it can be a damaging force as far as togue goes. They're calling this thing the Phantom 86 of Akina."

Mike had gone silent about halfway through Eric's explanation, focusing on the car that had just pulled into the parking lot.

"Hey Eric, did they describe the car in more detail?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Did it have flip-up headlights?"

"Yeah."

"White and black in color?"

"Uh, yeah."

"With Japanese kanji on the driver's side?"

"Yeah, damn man, I thought you didn't know anything about this? Why are you asking, anyways?"

"Because it just pulled in."


	4. Strangers in a Strange Land

**_Chapter Four: Strangers in a Strange Land_**

**__**

The crowd quieted down as the 86 pulled in, some snickering, some whispering, all stunned.

"An AE86? You're kidding me."

"I'm surprised he had the balls to drive an old clunker like that up here."

"Who would even consider racing in a rust-bucket like that?"

"I think he's the one who's got the best shot at winning this."

Mike blinked before turning to stare, mouth agape, at Eric.

"What the hell did you just say? You think that old fossil can WHAT?!"

Eric spoke calmly as he stood up, slowly walking to the 86, "I think whoever is driving that machine has the best shot at this. Don't ask me how, but I just got this feeling, like he's giving off waves of confidence. If it were someone who was ashamed of his 86, he would have come in before everyone, or after the races began. If he were cocky, he would have revved his engine and come in here being all loud and crap. But this guy, whoever it is, just rolled in here like he was just going to park here. No, this guy's got some intangible that I've only ever felt from the Takahashi Brothers, and he's got whatever it is in spades."

Mike stood up, his mouth still partially open.

"Where are you goin'?"

Eric turned, "I'm going to see the driver of that 86."

"Hey, wait up!"

Eric made his way to the 86 just as it had stopped, the driver killing the engine and opening the door.

"Are you kidding me?"

"He's just a kid!"

The driver stepped out of the car and slowly turned, saying a few words before he faced Eric and Mike. He put his hands into the pockets of his blue jeans, white and blue sneakers squeaking slightly as he regarded them, the wind kicking up to blow through his brown hair. By his complexion and eyes alone, anyone could tell he was Asian, most likely Japanese if anyone recognized the kanji on the side of the car.

"Uhhhh….," the driver stumbled to find the correct words, "hi…ummm…my…..errrrr….."

Eric raised his hand and the driver stopped speaking for a moment before Eric spoke to him, in near-perfect Japanese.

"Don't worry about trying to speak English. I can translate for you if that'd help."

The driver sighed thankfully, responding in Japanese.

"Sure, thanks. I'm surprised, you're American, but you speak Japanese really well."

"I went to Japan once, plus I got an uncle stationed at an army base over there. He taught me most everything a foreigner can know about the Japanese language."

"Cool. Thanks for the help."

"No problem. By the way, what's your name?"

"Takumi Fujiwara."

"I'm Eric Shields, nice to meet you Takumi."

"You here to race?"

Eric shook his head, "Nah, I used to, but not anymore. I'm just a mechanic now."

Takumi nodded, "Once you race enough times, I guess it just runs out of some people's blood."

Eric smirked, "Yeah, some people."

"So, what do you drive?"

"It's not here, but I used to drive an RX-7 with a rotary."

Takumi quirked his head to the side, "Did it happen to be black, with a carbon-fiber spoiler on it and an American license plate?"

Now it was Eric's turn to be intrigued, "Yeah actually, it was. How'd you know that?"

"My old man bought a wrecked RX-7 after someone had crashed it in Akagi. Was that you?"

Eric chuckled and shook his head, "Damn, everyone's finding out about me today," but when he continued, his expression became more serious, "Yeah, that was mine. How's he enjoying it? The only thing it was worth was scrap parts."

Takumi nodded, "Yeah, he had it hauled off to a friend's garage. I think they're stripping it."

"Figured as much."

Eric paused a moment before he spoke again.

"I'm gonna ask you a question, and I apologize if I'm being blunt, but I've been hearing this really weird rumor going around the internet. The rumor is pretty much that some Trueno AE86 took out Ryosuke Takahashi and his RX-7 FC at Akagi, and that Ryosuke is retired from street racing now. We're you the one beat the White Comet of Akagi?"

Takumi nodded, his voice still even and deadpan, "Yeah, that was me."

Eric nodded, "Just wanted to know."

_"And there you have it," Eric thought to himself, "Ryosuke Takahashi's undefeated streak ended by that 86, and he retired. Now maybe you'll stop wanting revenge."_

"Takumi Fujiwara. I'm surprised you of all people are here."

Takumi turned slowly to face the person who addressed him, only to come face to face with Ryosuke Takahashi.

"You organized all this, Ryosuke?" Takumi asked, his face a stone mask.

Ryosuke nodded, "I can't take all the credit, my brother came up with the idea, and I just acted on it. He does have flashes of brilliance off the road, as well as on."

"Still retired?"

Ryosuke smiled slightly, "Yes, I'm still retired, although that may change if a decent challenge comes out of this."

"The sound of that almost makes me want to race again."

Ryosuke shifted to see behind Takumi, to see who had spoken.

"Well, Eric Shields. This is certainly turning out to be a night of surprises, isn't it?"

"Certainly is."

"You don't race anymore?"

Eric shook his head, "Just a simple mechanic now."

"That's a shame. I was hoping to see how you'd improved over the years; I guess the crash shook you up more than I thought it did."

"If it makes you feel any better, it wasn't the crash that made me stop racing, I've got personal reasons."

Ryosuke nodded, "Well, I can respect that, at least you are being honest with yourself. In any event, I've got to get to the start line; we go in five," he looked back at Takumi and smiled, "I'm looking forward to watching you, Takumi. Don't disappoint me."

Ryosuke walked past the 86, past Eric and got into his white FC, heading off for the starting line. Minutes after Ryosuke had left, the rest of the racers began heading out to the course, wanting to get good spots to watch until it was their turn. Eric started towards Mike's 3000 GT, but stopped and turned back to the white 86.

"Hey, Takumi!"

Takumi turned his head as he was about to get into his 86.

"Good luck, man."

"Thanks," and with that, Takumi drove off, Mike and Eric not far behind, following the rest of the pack.


	5. First Victim and Bridging the Gap

**_Chapter 5: First Victim_**

**__**

The races had started off fairly slow, the drivers getting used to the course as they wound their way through the mountain pass. Some blow-outs (both tires and victory margins), some close calls (both crashes and victory margins) and some angry drivers, but everything seemed to be going fairly smooth.

Towards the end of the first round, it was finally Mike's turn to line up.

"Damn man, I feel like I can win this. With your touch under the hood and the power to back it, there's no way I can lose."

Eric smirked and put a hand on Mike's shoulder, shaking him lightly.

"Don't get so confident, any number of things could go wrong, things I could have missed. As much as you'd like to think otherwise, I'm not perfect. Also, the GT is NOT made for mountain racing, and all that power might do you in."

Mike shrugged off the warning,

"No worries, I got this in the bag."

Eric sighed, knowing he wouldn't be able to get through to Mike when he was like this. He only hoped he would wise up before his opponent showed.

"C'mon already, where's my opponent? I'm ready to go here!"

Almost on cue, headlights appeared off in the distance behind the red 3000 GT, slowly approaching from behind.

"Finally, now we're talking. So what am I up against? An 180SX? An S13?"

Eric could only stare, mouth slightly agape at Mike's misfortune.

"Yo, earth to Eric, what am I racing?"

"The 86."

Mike laughed, "Ha! Oh man, what luck! I get to race the rolling heap of junk! This'll be easy."

Eric again shook his head, _"I'll just wait here at the top. The entire course is downhill, giving the 86 a great advantage, plus there are enough sharp corners that, if that 86 is tuned as well as I think it is, it can dance all over your 3000 GT in the turns. No, the winner of this has already been decided, sorry Mike."_

The 86 lined up against Mike's machine, waiting for the signal. Eric moved off to the side, but then had a better idea. He walked up to the passenger side of Mike's car and knocked on the window.

"What is it? We're about to start."

"Let me ride with you."

"WHAT?! Are you out of your mind? You'll throw off the power to weight ratio!"

"No, I won't and you know it. Besides, with me, you'll have a bit of added traction."

"Well, you got a point there, but why do you all of a sudden want to ride shotgun?"

"I want to see this 86 in action."

"You'll only be watching him through my rear-view mirror."

Eric stood there, silently staring at Mike.

"Alright, get in."

Eric opened the passenger door and climbed in, closing the door and putting on the racing harness.

"10…..9…..8….7….6….5."

"You sure you're ready for this, Mike?"

Mike nodded, "absolutely."

"4…..3…..2….."

Eric looked past Mike and into the 86 where he saw Takumi, but he was different somehow.

"1…..GO!"

Mike slammed the accelerator down and they were off, the 3000 GT smoking the 86 off the line.

"Ha! I TOLD you this'd be easy!"

Eric looked in the mirror and saw the 86's headlights getting smaller and smaller as they neared the first corner.

"'Bout time he saw how we race here in America."

Mike hit the brakes and gripped the corner, powering out after the apex.

And then the 86 reappeared in the mirror, right up Mike's tailpipe.

"What the fuck?! It's a clunky 86! How was he able to close the gap?"

During the second small straightaway, the 86 started fading in his mirror again.

"He can't keep up with me in the straights, I got this."

Eric sat motionless save his eyes which were going between the road in front of them and the 86 in the mirror.

Mike braked again and took the second corner, gripping hard. Eric looked into the mirror again in time to see the 86 understeer.

"Looks like you caught a break Mike, the 86 just ended up understeering."

Mike gave a whoop of victory, "I knew he couldn't keep up!"

Mike's second whoop was choked off as the 86 once again reappeared in the mirror, still on Mike's bumper.

"But…..I don't…..how…..if he was understeering, he should not have been able to…."

Even Eric was slightly surprised at the 86. Once it began to understeer, it should have dropped back, and that's even if the driver was able to regain control, but this Trueno just kept coming. He didn't have much time to think on this before the next corner came.

"Mike, I think I know what's he's doing."

"You do? How?"

"There's only one way you can gain ground while understeering….keep him close in the corner, I want to see this."

"But Eric, I can pull away-"

"Do it."

Mike sighed, taking the corner at a decent clip, but enough to keep the 86 in view. What happened next confirmed Eric's suspicions.

As Mike hit the apex, the 86 feinted left into the turn, purposefully inducing an understeer, and then he shifted the weight right, causing the 86 to drift, an honest to god four-wheel inertia drift.

"I haven't seen a car drift that well since I raced Ryosuke; that was a PERFECT drift. So THAT'S how he's gaining in the corners."

"That's great," Mike said, a bit perturbed, "so how do I counter it?"

Eric looked over to Mike and spoke rather flatly.

"You don't. Not unless you yourself can drift, and you can't, my friend. Unless there's some rather large straightaway on this course, I give him two more corners, maybe three, before he passes you. At that point, it's game over."

Mike shook his head, staring ahead in disbelief.

"No way. You really think he's gonna take me in three corners?"

"Think? I know he's gonna take you in three."

Mike did his best in the upcoming turns, but the 86 would not be denied, staying with him through the turns, until that third turn that Eric mentioned came up.

"Eric, you think I could try to cut his line off? If I force him to the outside, he shouldn't be able to drift that close to the guardrail."

Eric froze, remembering how he'd cut Ryosuke's line off, and what had happened.

"I'd advise against it."

"Tough. I don't have much of a choice, either I cut his line or I lose, and I refuse the latter."

Mike slowed down slightly, getting to the inside and gripping with what was left of his tires, keeping the 86 from getting the optimum angle for his drift. Right after they entered the turn, Mike looked into his mirror, only to not see the 86 in it.

"Huh? Where'd he go?"

"Game over."

Mike turned to Eric, "What are you….oh my god…."

The 86 had managed to not only pull beside the 3000 GT, but drift from the outside. It happened in a flash, one moment the 86 was next to them, then it was in front of them.

Mike slammed down on the gas as they exited the turn, but it was too late, the finish line was right after the next corner, and the 86 would probably only gain even more ground.

"I can't believe it. How did a clunker like the 86 beat me?"

Mike pulled to a stop just as they crossed the finish line.

"Easy, besides some precision tuning under the hood, the driver's a monster. He's on a level none of us can even think about racing on. He may be all cool on the outside, but once he gets behind the wheel, he's a totally different person. I don't think anyone here can compete with that kind of raw talent, save maybe the Takahashi brothers, and even then, Ryosuke lost to it."

"Think you would've been able to take it if you were still racing?"

"Honestly Mike, on my best day and his worst, I don't think I could take him."

Mike's eyes widened slightly.

"You really think that 86 could've beat you?"

"Yeah, it could've easily beaten me."

The ride to top was a silent one. They parked off to the side, Mike slowly climbing out of his car.

"I didn't think the difference between both of us was going to be so much, well, so much in his favor anyways."

"Goes to show that what's under the hood is only half of what matters," Eric said, leaning against the door as the next pair took off.

"Where'd he go anyway?"

"Who? The 86?"

"Yeah, he didn't win and spin, did he?"

Eric shook his head, "probably went to make a few adjustments or some such thing."

Eric turned, walking back to the parking lot.

"Hey, where're you goin'?"

Eric turned his head back toward Mike, smirking slightly.

"I'm going to see if I can get a peek under the hood of that 86."

**_Interlude: Bridging the Gap_**

**__**

Eric strode into the parking lot around one in the morning, just after the first round ended. He looked around, seeing more than a few dejected and disgruntled racers, even more smoking hoods, and one lone kid, his head stuck under the hood of a beat-up Trueno.

"Need a hand?"

Takumi nearly hit his head on the hood as he jumped, startled at the sudden voice.

"Oh, it's you. You know anything about 86s?"

"Yeah, a bit. Had a friend who owned one once, used to tinker with his. What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure exactly, it's been making this clunking sound since the second to last corner of my race."

Eric moved his head under the hood, making a quick assessment before letting his hands work, checking each piece individually.

"Here's the problem, one of your head gaskets came loose. If I had a few simple tools….," Eric looked over at the car next to them, asking to borrow a wrench and a few other minor pieces.

"There, that should do it," he gave the wrench a final tug before handing it back over to its owner.

"I'm surprised the engine hasn't blown, it looks almost as old as the car."

Takumi just shrugged, "lucky, I guess."

Eric got out from under the hood, wiping his forehead with his sleeve.

"Hey, thanks. My old man's the one who usually tunes the car, I think. I just drive it like I normally do."

"Well," Eric said, suppressing a laugh, "you've got one hell of a normal way of driving. I was shotgun in the car you beat, and I've never seen anyone drift like that since I raced Ryosuke Takahashi."

Takumi only shrugged, "For five years, when I make the tofu deliveries in the mornings, my old man gives me this cup filled with water. He told me that as long as I don't spill a drop, the tofu will be fine, so I just drive to make sure I don't spill the water."

_"He can drift like that and not spill water from a cup in a car cup holder? Unbelievable."_

"You got a pen and paper, Takumi?"

Takumi blinked, "Uh, yeah, hold on."

He went into the 86 and opened the glove compartment, taking out some loose paper and a pen.

"Why do you need the paper?"

Eric took the pen and paper and scribbled down his name, phone number and address.

"In case you ever need a mechanic."


	6. Those Who Fail to Learn from the Past

**_Chapter 6: Those Who Fail to Learn from the Past_**

**__**

It was now five in the morning, and the sky was just beginning to lighten when the final two racers lined up to tackle the mountain one last time. The 86 was lined up and ready, Takumi looking as cool as ever behind the wheel, waiting for his opponent.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Eric shook his head as he saw Takumi's opponent roll up. The yellow color, the carbon-fiber spoiler and the stickers on the side made the ride unmistakable. Low murmurs began to sweep through the crowd.

"Keisuke Takahashi is lining up against that 86!"

"Wow, this is so unfair, the 86 doesn't have a prayer, KEISUKE has the kid outclassed and out-powered."

Keisuke revved his engine as he stopped at the line and the countdown began.

"10!......9!.......8!.......7!......"

_"You may have beaten me once, Ghost of Akina, but I've gotten better."_

"6!......5!......4!........3!......"

_"I've watched you all throughout the tournament. This time, it'll be different."_

"2!........1!......"

_"You'll pay for the humiliation my brother suffered!"_

"GO!"

The Mazda RX-7 FD Type R leapt off the line, easily blowing away Takumi in his 86. Keisuke looked up into his rear-view mirror, watching the 86 disappear from view.

"Hmph. Seems like deja-vu all over again."

Keisuke hit the corner first, followed slowly by Takumi, both drifting through. Just as before, Takumi gained ground, but Keisuke did notice something.

"He's not as fast out of the corners as he usually is. He's not gaining as much as he used to."

They both exited the corner, Keisuke again beginning to pull away until the next corner, where they both hit their stride, drifting flawlessly through, Takumi coming out better than he did last turn.

"Damn," Keisuke swore to himself, "he's picking up the rhythm; he's starting to get that same stride that he had when he beat me."

Keisuke paused in his thoughts for a moment as he hit the third corner, but this time, he gripped it, tires squealing as he brushed the rubber's grip threshold.

"Screw it, screw the tires and screw that damn 86! I'm gonna win this no matter what, and this time, he doesn't have anything to hook his tires into!"

Keisuke gripped the next corner as well, Takumi still gaining on him but not nearly as much as before.

"Good, right where you belong, sitting in my rear-view mirror. Maybe this beating will make you realize that you need to scrap that rolling heap of yours."

After a few more corners, the grip on Keisuke's tires began to give, but it seemed too little too late for Takumi.

"Only one more corner to go, the final hairpin and I cross that finish line. The 86 WILL go down!"

In the car behind him, however, Takumi was still as cool and confident as ever.

Takumi was drifting through every turn, but he still couldn't get a line that would take him past Keisuke.

"He's gotten better, much better."

Takumi hit the second to last corner, drifting through it flawlessly, but only got him inches on Keisuke.

"I think I can take him on the final hairpin."

As they both reached the hairpin, a gust of wind blew out of the east, scattering dead leaves that had been left behind after the winter's snow had melted, and as Takumi looked to the side, it revealed to him his golden road.

"Is that……yeah, it's gotta be!"

Takumi turned his attention quickly back to the road and saw Keisuke start to slow down in order to take the next turn. Takumi, a glare in his eyes, kept a lead foot on the gas and pulled up next to Keisuke on the inside.

Keisuke looked over and saw Takumi pulling up next to him, eyes wide with disbelief.

"What? Is he mad? He'll crash! There's no way he can make-"

Before Keisuke, could finish his sentence, he heard an all too familiar sound, like a thud, and then scraping.

"No…..no he couldn't, there wasn't a single one to be found on the mountain. He couldn't have, he simply COULDN'T have."

Sure enough, once Takumi passed him, he saw the 86 jump up on the right side and level out as it crossed the finish line.

"Goddamn, he did it again. He hooked another gutter, letting him turn at a speed that exceeded the tire's grip. The son of a bitch did it to me again."

Takumi kept right on driving, continuing down the mountain and onto the main roads. Keisuke stopped at the bottom, climbing out and turning to his brother, who was waiting for the winner.

"Did you see that, Ryosuke? He hooked the-"

"I know. I knew he'd do that from the second he started racing here."

Keisuke was stunned.

"You…you knew, and you didn't tell me?!"

Ryosuke nodded slowly, "Yes Keisuke, I didn't tell you because I'd hoped you'd figure it out yourself. Consider it a lesson; those who refuse to learn from the past are doomed to repeat it. You have the skills to go pro with me, now you just need the mentality. I always said that if you had my brain, you'd be the perfect driver. You're skills are even better than mine, but you lack the technical knowledge. Trust me, Keisuke, in time, you'll beat the 86."

Keisuke stood silently for a moment before he spoke, "So, where's he going?"

"Airport, he's on his way back to Japan."

"What about the prize?"

"It's not like we can't find him once we get back to Gunma. Besides, something tells me he was racing for more than money tonight, something more valuable to him."

Keisuke only smirked and turned towards the rising sun.

"That what's so scary about you bro, you can look at how someone is driving and immediately tell their flaws, weaknesses, suspension, camber, just everything."

Ryosuke smiled slightly and shrugged.

"If I'd been able to read people and their cars that well, I would have beaten the 86. He's a tough one to figure out, although I must admit, I would like to see what he has under the hood of that machine of his."

"Most definitely, that's no ordinary 86. You think there's anyone on the amateur street racing circuit in Japan that could beat him on the downhill?"

"Amateur circuit? No, I think he's in a class all his own," Ryosuke stopped and looked up as a peal of thunder crashed over the mountain.

"Let's go, Ryosuke, no sense in driving on wet roads longer than we have to."

Keisuke climbed into his car and started the engine, looking at his brother.

"There's a storm coming in."


	7. Death of a Friend

**_Chapter 7: Last Days of Glory_**

**__**

The ride home was both uneventful and quiet, with Mike doing the driving and Eric looking out of the window most of the time. The sun was just starting to set as they crossed the Throggs Neck Bridge, crossing over into Long Island. It wasn't until then that the silence was broken by Mike.

"You knew, didn't you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You knew that 86 was gonna smoke me, didn't you?"

"Had no clue."

"Bullshit Eric. We've been friends for years, at least play it straight with me."

Eric sighed, "Yeah, I knew. I said it then, and I'll say it now; he's got this aura about him, this air of……it's hard to explain. Keisuke has one, but it's really weak. Ryosuke had the strongest aura I'd even sensed, until that 86 pulled in. His aura was just flowing off of him, and I don't think he even realized."

"And you think that by that alone; you knew he would beat me?"

"Was I wrong?"

Mike and Eric sat in silence for the rest of the drive, Mike dropping Eric off at his house just as the sun sank beneath the horizon.

"Look Mike, for what it's worth, I'm sorry you didn't win. I was pulling for you, but that 86, man. I don't think anyone there coulda stopped him, not even Ryosuke."

Mike nodded, "I know, man, I know. I'll seeya in a few weeks when I call the guys together; right now I need to think about my way of driving."

"Your way of driving is fine, it's just on togue racing-"

"Yeah, I know, we saw what happened. I used to think all racing was is slamming quarters and how many horses you can pack under the hood. Now I know better."

"Welcome to the world of _real _street racing, enjoy your stay."

Mike smirked, "Yeah, rude welcome though. Anyways, I'll catch ya later."

"Yup."

Mike sped off as Eric walked back towards his house, entering through the front.

"I'm home!"

Eric's mother poked her head out from the kitchen; the smell tipping him off that dinner was cooking.

"Hi hun! How was the race?"

"It was alright, a few surprises."

"Oh? Did anyone get hurt?"

"Nope, not that I saw, maybe a bruised ego here and there, but nothing serious."

"Well that's good, how did Mike do?"

"Lost first race in."

"That's rough, to whom?"

"An import, something from Japan."

"Oh."

Eric went up to his room for the moment, sprawling out on the bed and looking up at the ceiling, exhausted from the tournament.

"Man, I wish that 86 had been around when I was racing. Woulda been a hell of a challenge, probably moreso than Ryosuke."

He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep until his mother called him down for dinner. He groggily got off his bed and made his way downstairs for dinner. He ate slowly, not really waking up until about halfway through. After dinner he put his plate in the sink and grabbed his car key, heading out to the driveway.

"Going somewhere?"

"No, just checking on my car."

"Well, it's still there."

Eric walked out the door and over to his car, "_That's not what I'm checking."_

He stood in front and to the side of it, staring at it, thinking to himself all the while.

_"How? How can a simple 86 beat an RX-7 FC? I know that a downhill run can severely limit the horsepower advantage of any car, even an FC has, but can it really negate it to the point where an 86 can beat it? I knew the 86 could dog an RX on the downhill, but to beat it? Could I get MY 86 to do that?"_

He stared at the panda 86 long and hard before he answered himself.

_"No, I couldn't. Takumi has that 86 tuned to him like it's a part of his body. I'd need years to get to that level of comfort. Besides….I still miss my RX. It felt like I lost a friend, and I guess I'm still grieving."_

Eric placed a hand on the hood before he walked back in, heading upstairs to boot up his computer. He chucked the keys onto his bed and sat down, reading through e-mail and going through his usual web sites that he checked daily. Of course the internet street racing groups were abuzz with the news about this busted 86 coming in and winning the first SRT to even be held on American soil. As he was going through all of the reports and such, his friend Amber IMed him.

"Finally got back, huh? Good, you can give me the details from your point of view and kill these bullshit rumors that some lame-ass 86 hatchback won the tournament."

"No rumors, dear. I saw it with my own damn eyes; a lame-ass 86 hatchback beat Keisuke Takahashi and won the whole damn thing."

"I'll be damned; you're serious, aren't you?"

"You had to have been there to really understand it. You know how when a lion shows up, even before any of the other animals see it, they know it's there?"

"Yeah?"

"That's what this 86 was like. It had that kind of aura about it. It showed up, cleaned house and left like it did that sort of thing every day."

"Y'know, I bet you coulda beaten it."

"Guess we'll never know."

"Oh come on, you see something like that, a challenge like that, and it doesn't even spark anything in you?"

"Not anymore, but even if it did, it probably woulda smoked me anyway."

"You think?"

"I know."

"Wow, that good, huh?"

"Better."

"Damn."

The conversation slowly drifted towards her recent boy trouble. It seemed as though her newest boyfriend had finally hit all the wrong buttons when he insulted her friends. A slap and a curse later she was single, but frustrated nonetheless. Eric sat back and listened, or read, however you want to term it, playing the big brother and letting her vent about how she got stuck with all the weird ones.

After she'd thoroughly vented, they both logged off with Eric heading to his room at around three in the morning. He took his keys off the bed and placed them on his dresser, then got into his boxers and a t-shirt and fell asleep on top of the covers, a panda 86 and a black RX-7 running neck and neck in his dreams.

It had been about a month since the tournament and Mike's encounter with the 86. Life had returned to normal, Mike calling meetings every other week to get the New York Nitro together (Eric had repeatedly tried to talk him out of this name, claiming that it sounded like they were some sort of arena football team, but to no avail) and tackle new strips of asphalt.

"Yo Eric, seriously, was the 86 that amazing to watch," one of the guys, Rick, had asked him one night as Jake and Matt peeled off down the road.

"Yeah, it was poetry in motion, no joke."

"Damn, I wish I'd been there to see that."

"It was something special, I'll tell ya that."

They'd all been questioning him about the 86 and its capabilities, seeing as he how he drove one himself. He couldn't for the life of him give them a straight answer, it was that unique.

Now he was home, in front of the kitchen sink, washing the dishes for his mother, his mind trailing off as it often did when he was doing such menial tasks.

"This'd be so much easier if we just had a dishwasher."

He stared out the window at the darkening sky and the rain that was starting to come down. A sharp crack of thunder announced the coming of a downpour and caused Eric to drop the dish he was washing, breaking as it hit the floor.

"Something's not right. Something's definitely not right."

Eric cleaned up the broken dish and tossed it in the garbage, then finished up the rest of the plates. He put the towel back on the hook and headed upstairs. He hadn't even gotten halfway up when the house phone rang, his sister picking it up.

He never got calls on the house phone, so he continued upstairs until his sister called out.

"Eric! Phone call!"

Eric stood at the top of the stairs for a moment. No one he knew called him on the regular phone, they all used his cell…..unless…..

Eric bounded down the stairs and quickly grabbed the phone from his sister.

"This is Eric."

The voice on the other end spoke to him in perfect Japanese, its tone not as flat as the first time he'd heard it, but perhaps…..upset? Maybe even sad?

"Eric? It's Takumi, from the tournament?"

"Right, what's up? You need that mechanic?"

"Yeah, actually, I do."

Eric was pleasantly surprised, he hadn't expected to be going back to Japan, but he didn't mind at all, it was such a beautiful country.

"I thought your dad did all the work on the 86?"

"He used to, now it's mine and he won't work on it anymore. He told me I had to learn on my own."

"Don't you have friends there who could work on it?"

Takumi sighed, "Not on the 86, they're used to tuning their own, more modern cars, not an 86."

"Well sure Takumi, I can be there in a couple of days. What's wrong with the 86?"

"Well, it's partially the 86 and partially me."

"Takumi, I don't understand, what do you mean partially you and partially the 86?"

The next sentence that came out of Takumi's mouth was clear, crisp and unbelievable.

"The 86's engine finally blew. I lost."


	8. Beat of the Rising Sun

**_Chapter Eight: Beat of the Rising Sun_**

Eric hung up with Takumi and picked his cell phone up, dialing out to St. Karina Air Force Base in Japan.

"St. Karina Air Force Base, this is Colonel Brachett."

"Hey Colonel, its Eric."

The gruff senior on the other end gave a chuckle.

"Ah, Nick's kid! How the hell are ya?"

"M'alright, my old man around?"

"Yeah, might take me a few minutes, I think he's in the middle of a meeting."

"Not like I got anyplace important to go."

The sound of the phone being put down could be heard, along with footsteps getting fainter. Eric sat down, reading the newspaper until, after a few minutes, his father picked up the line.

"Hey son, how are ya?"

"I'm pretty good dad, how's things over in the west?"

"Boring as shit, you know how it is."

"Bet you'd give your left arm for a decent car and a quarter-mile strip of tarmac right now, huh?"

"You know that's what landed me here in the first place, although it's a hell of a lot better than jail."

"You never answered my question old man," Eric smirked as he spoke, knowing what his father would say.

Nick Shields sighed and Eric could almost picture his dad grinning on the other end.

"You bet your ass I would."

"Somehow I figured as much."

"So, I assume this isn't a social call."

"Wish it were. I got a favor to ask."

"What's that?"

"I need you to hook me up with a cargo plane that can carry a Toyota AE86 Sprinter Trueno GT-Apex model out to Gunma Prefecture in Japan."

"Sprinter Trueno, huh? Whose car?"

"Mine."

"Finally driving again?"

"Yup."

"You're not racing again, are you?"

Eric sighed, "No dad, I'm not racing again."

"Look, it's not that I don't want you to, but after what happened to me, and then you with your accident-"

"Its ok dad, I'm not racing. A friend of mine needs some work done on his own 86, this friend just happens to live out in Japan and I need something to drive. Figured since the 86 is already a Japanese car, I wouldn't have to deal with inspections and paperwork and shit."

There was silence for a moment before Nick spoke, "Yeah, I can get you a cargo plane. Tomorrow morning, be at MacArthur Airport, it'll be waiting for ya."

"Thanks."

"Eric?"

"Yeah."

"Stay away from Takahashi. Last thing I need to hear is that you went down in a blaze of glory, literally."

"I told you, I don't race anymore; I've nearly forgotten how to drift anyways."

"A street racer never forgets, just loses his edge."

"I know."

"Talk to ya later."

"Yup."

Eric closed his cell phone and pulled a suitcase out of his closet, setting it on his bed and flipping it open.

"Guess I should pack for warm weather."

He started going through his clothes, taking out what he thought he'd need for the trip, however long it might be. He'd begun to close the suitcase when he looked over and noticed a little bit of black leather sticking out from underneath a pile of papers and magazines.

"Hey, my racing gloves."

Eric regarded the small, leather, fingerless gloves for a few moments before he absently tossed them in with the rest of the clothes he'd already packed.

Six in the morning rolled around and Eric was slowly backing his 86 into the belly of a huge C-2 military cargo transporter. Once it was parked, he got out and helped to secure it down with the straps that were now underneath the car. He jumped out of the back as the ramp was rising up, walking around front and climbing into the co-pilot seat of the cockpit.

After a half-hour layover in California to refuel, they reached Happogahara Airport at around six in the evening. Eric climbed out of the cockpit and walked around back as the ramp was lowering. He jumped in as it hit the ground and started un-fastening the straps, then climbed into the car and drove out of the cargo bay, stopping to thank the pilot and have him give his regards to his old man. Once he got to the parking lot of the airport, he pulled out a small road map of Gunma Prefecture.

"Well, I'm here now," he pointed to a small dot on the map not too far outside Tokyo, "and I need to get here," he traced a line up past Tokyo, Saitama and Chiba, finally stopping on another small dot which read 'Mount Akina', "so if I take this up for a ways, I should hit Takumi's town mere minutes before I hit Akina Mountain. First I should hit a bank and exchange my cash."

Eric drove a little ways before coming across a bank that dealt in currency conversions. He exchanged a good amount of money over to Yen and began his long drive north, windows down to let the warm, summer breeze in. On the drive up, his thoughts kept drifting to the tournament, the 86, the final race and finally, Takumi's sudden phone call.

"I knew it, I knew that engine was gonna blow."

Eric couldn't help but feel sorry for Takumi. Here he was, building up this massive amount of street cred by driving, and winning, in a beat-up hatchback, and now it was severely damaged all because his engine decided to give out at the worst possible time.

"Lady Luck sure can deal a shit hand sometimes."

He passed the time just admiring the surroundings as he continued north, the sky darkening as he went. He was always amazed at how much cleaner; more pure Japan looked than the States. Damn shame he didn't live out here, or at least have the scenery in the States that they had here.

After hours of driving, he finally reached Takumi's town, a nice little place with a great view of Mount Akina. He looked down at his gas gauge and noticed it was nearly empty.

"Damn, need to gas up before I go motel hunting."

He drove down the road a little ways before he reached an Esso Station that looked as if it were still open. He pulled in and drove up to the pump as an attendant came out.

"Welcome!"

Eric spoke, this time in Japanese.

"High Octane, fill it up."

"Sure."

The attendant, he looked no older than seventeen, began to pump the gas into his tank as he looked over the 86.

"You don't look Japanese."

Eric smiled and shrugged, "Hard to look Japanese when you're American."

"What?! You're American, but you drive a Japanese car, and an 86 nonetheless! "

"Just 'cuz I'm from the States doesn't mean I don't know cars."

"Hmph. You couldn't possibly appreciate this classic. The fine tuning, the skill it takes just to use everything this car has. I'm sure an outsider like you wouldn't understand."

"I understand that on the downhill, nothing, and I mean nothing can beat this car…..or so I thought."

The attendant stopped the pump and turned to Eric, tilting his head.

"A friend of mine drives, well, races an 86 around here. I heard his engine blew during the race and he lost. He called me so I could take a look at the car and new engine his dad put in."

"NEW ENGINE?! Takumi never told us he was getting a new engine! I swear, next time I…..hey wait a second, how do you know Takumi?"

"Met him at a tournament in the States, never expected him to call me and tell me he lost."

Eric climbed out of the car as a second, older attendee stepped out of the station.

"Problem here, Itsuki?"

"Uh, no. Turns out this guy is a friend of Takumi's; he's here to help him with the 86."

Eric leaned against his 86, nodding slowly.

"So it's true then, he did lose."

The older attendee nodded gravely.

"Yeah, he lost. God, what was he thinking?! He told us he was gonna go nowhere near Akagi! What made him change his mind?"

Eric perked up at this.

"Akagi? Don't tell me the RedSuns took him down."

"You know about the Akagi RedSuns?"

"If you're a street racer, you HAVE to know the Akagi RedSuns."

"You race?"

"Used to, wrecked a few years ago. I just work on cars now."

"That's understandable, at least you weren't here when that one guy wrecked over at Akagi. Some American almost took down Ryosuke Takahashi, but he hit a patch of oil and wrecked hard, never heard from him again."

Eric froze for a moment, the older attendee's words reverberating through his skull.

_"A patch of oil? No, I would've noticed it after three days on the course."_

"Hey," the younger attendee spoke, "you ok?"

Eric started back to reality, shaking his head slowly.

"You couldn't know it was a patch of oil."

The older attendee nodded.

"No, it was definitely oil, I was on the corner he wiped out on, saw it with my own eyes."

Eric was thunderstruck. Could it really be, that after all these years, that it really _wasn't _his fault? He put the thought to the back of his mind for now, clearing his head before attempting to speak again.

"By the way, since you guys know Takumi; why not give me your names? I'm Eric Shields."

The older attendee stepped forward, extending his hand.

"Kouichirou Iketani, leader of the Akina SpeedStars."

Eric took his hand and shook it, "nice to meet ya. Akina SpeedStars, huh? The local street racing team?"

"Yup, and like the name says, we're pretty damn fast. Well, Takumi's pretty damn fast; we're all trying to learn from him."

"Seems reasonable enough, but he's got five years experience, and the way he was taught…I don't think he could teach you to where you'd be at his level."

"You know how he was taught?!"

Eric looked over at the younger attendee.

"Oh! Sorry! I'm Itsuki Takeuchi. Pleasure to meet you! So, how was he taught?"

"I really don't think I should be giving away Takumi's secrets, he might not like it."

"Awwwww man! We've been trying forever to get him to tell us!"

"Sorry guys, you'll just have to wait, not my place to tell."

Eric looked at his watch and cringed.

"Any of you guys know of a decent motel around here where a guy can get some sleep? I'm a day early and Takumi's not expecting me."

"Well, not really, all we really have is love motels down by Lake Akina."

"Wonderful. I wouldn't get much sleep done there, but I guess one will have to do. Where do I go?"

Kouichirou gave Eric the directions, jotting them down as best he could on a map of Akina.

"That's about as good as I can do."

"That should be all I need, thanks."

"No problem, just watch out for the Emperors."

Eric was reaching for the door handle of his car when he turned around.

"The who?"

"There this street racing team from the Nikko Irohazaka. They're all armed with Lancer Evolutions."

Eric's eyes widened visibly at that remark.

"ALL of them are driving LanEvos?"

"Yup, the second best is driving a Lancer Evolution IV, and the leader, Kyoichi Sudoh drives a Lancer Evolution III with a misfiring system. He's the one who beat Takumi."

"Well damn, I'm not surprised. LanEvos are already meant to be rally cars, equip one of those bad boys with a misfiring system and it's one of the best street rides out there."

"One of? Not the best?"

"Yup, the Evo III has to be the second best car out here in Gunma."

Kouichirou looked slightly confused, arms slack at his side.

"Then what's the best car out here?"

"The RX-7 FC."

"You think Ryosuke Takahashi's FC could beat an Evo III?"

"As long as Ryosuke is behind the wheel of it, yeah."

"You might want to head out to Akagi in a few days then."

"Why?"

"Kyoichi laid down a challenge to Ryosuke; I heard he's coming out of retirement to race the Emperors."

"Really now?" Eric smiled at that; the thought of seeing Gunma's best shooting it out was definitely cool.

"I just might. But anyways, I should get going. Thanks for the directions."

"Sure thing, could you just do us one favor?"

"What?"

"Tell Takumi that it's cool that he lost; it's no big deal, really."

"Sure."

Eric got back into his 86 and started down the road towards Lake Akina and the motel Kouichirou had given him direction to. He pulled into the parking lot not a half hour after leaving the Esso station. He locked the car up, took his suitcase out of the back and headed to the doors, taking one last look up at Mount Akina before heading inside.

"Hi, I'd like a room for the night," Eric said, taking out his wallet and opening it up.

"You're alone?"

Eric shrugged and nodded, "Yeah, I'm alone, couldn't find any hotels around because I came in so late."

"Don't get too many single people around here. It'll be 5,000 Yen for the night."

Eric nodded, producing the bills from his wallet and handing them to the man behind the desk as the man handed Eric his key.

"Enjoy your stay."

Eric took his key and went to the elevators, taking one up to the 12th floor.

"Well, at least this place isn't a dive."

It was actually pretty nice by American motel standards, almost like a Ramada or Howard Johnson's. He slid the key into the slot and opened the door after the lock beeped, letting him know the key was accepted. He shut the door behind him, putting his suitcase next to the bed before taking his shoes off and laying down, dead tired from the plane ride and subsequent jet lag. In only minutes, he was almost asleep when he heard what sounded like loud sobbing from next door.

"Great," Eric muttered sleepily, "I'm next to someone in the middle of histrionics."

The sobbing stopped right before a pained voice spoke.

"How did he find out I was a call girl? How could Takumi have found out? He couldn't have been all the way out by Akagi, so how did he find out?"

Eric sat up at the mentioning of Takumi, crawling up the bed and placing his ear on the wall.

"I never wanted him to find out! I stopped seeing Papa because I loved Takumi so much, and now he won't even speak to me!"

The girl who was speaking sniffled a bit before she continued.

"If there is a God, he must be the cruelest God ever."

The girl then broke back down into tears when another voice, another girl, from what it sounded like, spoke.

"It's ok Natsuki. He'll come to his senses."

The other girl, Natsuki, sniffed again.

"I hope so. We we're getting so close, almost as close as…"

Natsuki sighed, taking a moment to blow her nose.

"Thanks for coming to get me, after my parents found out they completely freaked. I need to stay clear of them for a bit."

"Hey, that's what friends are for, right?"

Eric sat back, his mind going over the pieces of the puzzle.

"Takumi finds out this girl he was apparently interested in is, or was, a call girl. Takumi gets angry. Takumi drives around Akagi to blow off some steam….oh no."

Eric lay back on the bed as he fit the rest of the pieces together.

"He got pissed, so he drove around Akagi to blow off some steam. He was probably itching for a fight, so he found Kyoichi. He was probably racing Kyoichi angry, not thinking clearly. Hmph. Maybe the 86 was punishing him for such a foolish move, and Takumi's head is probably still messed up over this, that's why he said it was partially him."

Eric rolled over and closed his eyes, slowly drifting back to sleep.

"Looks like I got more than the 86 to work on."


	9. The Long Road Back

**_Chapter Nine: The Long Road Back_**

Eric left the motel after sleeping in late, really late. He drove up and down Mt. Akina to kill some time until Takumi got out of school and off of work.

"The rhythm on this road is pretty easy to get a hang of. Someone who knows these roads like the back of their hand would easily be able to dust off an outsider."

While Eric made his way to the Fujiwara Tofu Shop, Takumi listlessly meandered through his school day.

"Hey, Takumi!"

Takumi turned around just in time to see Itsuki running up to him in the hallway.

"Hi Itsuki."

"Jeez, you could at least wait up!"

"Sorry Itsuki."

"So…..ummm…how're ya doing? Y'know, after the…uhhh…."

"I'm getting by."

"Really? That's good. We were all afraid you'd be more spacey than usual."

"Mmmm."

"Hey Takumi, listen. It's ok that you lost, really. It's no big deal. We just wanted to know what made you go up there to race in the first place, even after you said you'd stay away from Akagi."

"I had my reasons, Itsuki."

"It must've been one hell of a good one to go up against Kyoichi Sudoh. I'm mean really Takumi, why'd you do it?"

"Honestly Itsuki? I don't know. It was a stupid move on my part."

Takumi let out a long sigh before he continued to speak.

"God, what was I thinking? I should have known better than to go up against Kyoichi."

"Hey, Takumi, it's ok, really. We could care less about the loss. Hell, even Keisuke came by and said that the race was invalid in the RedSuns eyes."

"It's not the loss that bothers me, Itsuki. The fact that I blew the engine on the 86 though, I'm just sick about that."

_"Wow," _Itsuki thought, _"he cares more about his car than he does the loss."_

They had gotten out into the afternoon sun at this point when Itsuki perked up again.

"Oh, by the way, there was this guy who came by the Esso station last night asking about you."

Takumi stopped and turned to Itsuki.

"Was he American?"

"Yeah, actually, he was. So you two do know each other. Not surprised, considering he showed up in an 86 just like yours. Guess your taste in cars rubbed off on him."

"He was driving a what?"

"He was driving an 86, looked a lot like yours. What, you didn't hear me the first time?"

Takumi pondered this for a moment.

"Hey. Hey Takumi, don't tell me you spaced out on me again."

Takumi blinked and turned to Itsuki.

"Huh? Oh, sorry Itsuki."

Itsuki only sighed.

"Jeez, you think you could go at least ten minutes without spacing out. Anyway, we gotta get to work!"

"Right."

Itsuki darted off campus while Takumi kept a leisurely pace, even after Natsuki Mogi approached him.

"Takumi please, I need to talk to you!"

Takumi kept on walking as if he didn't even know she was right next to him.

"Takumi, please! I didn't mean for you to find out!"

"Too late for that."

"I stopped seeing him for you, Takumi!"

"Just step off, Natsuki. I've got to get to work."

Takumi made his way down the front stairs of the school, leaving Natsuki at the top on the verge of tears.

Ryosuke was in the middle of typing up another analysis when his brother knocked, waiting a second to see if he heard any objection. Upon hearing none, he entered his brother's room.

"Hey Ryosuke, we just got word from our guys over in Happogahara that-"

"I know, Keisuke. He arrived yesterday. He should have the package once he gets to Akina today. It's already been dropped off."

"You sure this is what he needs to see?"

"Absolutely. I refuse to see talent like his wasted because of his own

unfounded fears."

"You thinking of having him join-"

"It certainly is a possibility. We'll have to wait and see how he responds."

Eric arrived at the Tofu Shop around three in the afternoon, parking his 86 next to Takumi's 86. He got out and walked in the front, noticing no one around.

"Hello? Anyone here?"

"Hold on a second."

A man in his early forties stepped out from behind the cloth that hung behind the counter, dividing the house section from the shop section. He was wearing a white collared shirt, blue jeans and a pair of house sandals.

"Can I help you?"

Eric stammered for a minute, trying to regain his capacity to speak.

_"My God, this guy gives off an incredible aura! If this is Takumi's father, and he did teach him how to drive, its no wonder Takumi's aura is as powerful as it is."_

"Sir?"

Eric blinked and shook his head.

"Sorry. My name is Eric Shields; I met Takumi Fujiwara at the racing tournament held over in America. He called me a few days ago concerning his 86. He said he needed someone to help him tune it."

At this point the man went into the front pocket on his shirt and fished out a cigarette and a lighter, putting the smoke to his lips and lighting it while taking a nice, long drag. He let it out through both his nose and mouth before he spoke.

"Takumi had mentioned something about meeting an American who knew how to work on an 86. He called you here all the way from the United States just to help him out?"

"Call it compassion for a fellow F/R driver. Besides, I know what he's going through."

"Hmmmm?"

Eric tilted his head to the side a bit.

"How's my RX-7 working for you?"

The penny dropped and the man understood what Eric was talking about, taking another long drag off his cigarette and exhaling.

"So, that was your RX-7 I picked up a few years ago?"

"Yeah, that was mine."

"And now you drive an 86?"

"Yup."

The man took another pull from the cig, exhaling slowly.

"Name's Bunta Fujiwara."

"Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Fuji-"

Bunta cut him off with a motion of his hand.

"Just Bunta. Mr. Fujiwara makes me feel like an old man, and nobody calls me that unless I'm working."

"Alright then, Bunta."

"So, why'd you get an 86?"

"It used to be respected among the hardcore street racers when it came out. Although, with Takumi winning with it like he did, its reputation as a monster on the downhill seemed to be coming back."

"You race with it?"

"I haven't raced since the crash. And even if I did, my RX-7 was not just a part of me, it WAS me; I could never race with anything else. When I crashed it, a part of me went with it. All my instincts, all my desire to race went with it when I realized how close I came to dying in some hospital bed thousands of miles from home. When it slipped and crashed, I slipped and crashed. I won't race until I can fix myself; figure out what I did wrong. Even then, I'm not sure I could make myself stare death in the face again. Once was enough for me."

Bunta puffed on his cigarette.

"By the way, this came for you today. Someone dropped it off, didn't say who they were, only that you'd be here."

Bunta walked over to a shelf where a thick envelope was placed. He tossed the envelope over to Eric, who caught it and flipped it over, reading the label.

"To Eric Shields…..Fujiwara Tofu Shop…..no return address. What's going on?"

Bunta shrugged as made his way to the garage area.

"Beats the hell out of me. I need to go out for a bit, feel free to use the television. I should be back by the time Takumi gets back from work."

Eric heard Bunta close a car door, the engine that turned over sounding nothing like an 86. Before long, the sounds of the car faded out as it drove off to wherever Bunta planned on going. Eric turned the envelope over in his hands and tore the top off, tipping it upside down.

"What the hell?"

A small black VHS tape had fallen into his hand. Upon further examination, he noticed the label on the front with nothing but a date: April 15th, 1994.

"April 15th? 1994? Why would anyone send me something two years old?"

Eric thought it over for a moment before it hit him.

"The race between Ryosuke and myself?"

Consumed by curiosity, Eric looked over at the television with the VCR up top.

"Well, he did say I could use the T.V."

Eric sat down in front of the machine and popped in the VHS cassette. There was a few seconds of static before the screen came to life with a shot from what looked like the outside of a car. After a second, he realized it was Ryosuke's car, as Eric could just make out the left front end of his RX-7. The picture jumped right as the sound of both engines roared to life, the picture now moving, giving Eric a crystal clear view of the road in front of Ryosuke. The picture moved with the car, drift for drift, grip for grip; Eric was sure it was mounted to the passenger side of Ryosuke's FC. About three minutes in, the video suddenly stopped. The visual was blurred by the speed and by the fact that Ryosuke had just started to turn, and Eric was sure he could see the nose of his RX-7 just to the side.

"What's the deal?"

Eric got up, about to eject the tape when the visuals started to clear up, eliminating the speed blur and once again giving Eric a clean view of the road. A small box appeared down by the front of Eric's wheel, pulling the picture with it.

"My god."

As the picture froze yet again, in the center of the screen now was a black slick on the road, no more than an inch in diameter. The screen returned to normal, only now moving at half speed. The black stain ran directly underneath Eric's left-side wheels. The picture then began moving at full speed, accompanied by the sounds of a wrecking car.

"Son of a bitch. There really was an oil slick on the road. All this time, I thought it was me."

Eric sat back, letting what he just saw sink in before muttering.

"Even if I'd known, it's not like I've got a car to race with. It would take years to get the 86 to where I want it."

Eric sighed as the fleeting thought passed.

"It was nice while it lasted."

Bunta pulled up to a lone car repair shop somewhere on the outskirts of Akina. He parked the car and climbed out, walking over to the only garage with a light on.

"Hey, Masashi, you here?"

A younger man stood up from the other side of a tarp, his face grease-stained with his hair back in a ponytail that stuck out the back of his hat. He smiled and stroked his goatee as he walked over to Bunta, the two of them lighting up cigarettes as he reached him.

"Hey Bunta, what brings you out here? Thought you weren't going to be out this way for a week or two more?"

Bunta took a drag off his cigarette and exhaled slowly.

"I wasn't, but I had to bump the timetable up a bit. Is it ready to go?"

Masashi sucked in a breath and coughed on the cigarette smoke.

"You mean now? You need it now?"

Bunta nodded, "Yup."

"Well, yeah, it's ready to go," Masashi said, tossing Bunta a pair of keys.

"You think he's ready Bunta? I mean from what I heard, it really messed him up."

"He's ready."

"Alright, if you say so."

Masashi threw off the tarp and Bunta climbed into the car that was under it before he spoke again.

"What about your car, Bunta?"

Bunta rolled the window down, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"It's not quite where I want it yet. The suspension needs to be tweaked, and the ride height needs to drop 6 centimeters. I need you to get a few parts for me, here's the list."

Bunta handed Masashi a list of parts.

"Only the best, huh? I'll have them for you by the end of the week."

Bunta nodded and muttered an affirmative before he pulled out of Masashi's garage, making his way back to the tofu shop.

Eric had fallen asleep on the floor when the sound of footsteps awoke him. He woke with a start and immediately sat up, taking a moment to register the unfamiliar surroundings. He looked up, bleary-eyed, at Takumi, Itsuki and Kouichirou. He rubbed his eyes before yawning.

"Hey Takumi, how's it going?"

Takumi raised his eyebrows slightly, but soon returned to normal.

"Better than you it seems."

Eric now stood, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to fix it. Takumi looked around for a moment.

"Where'd my old man go?"

"I'm not sure exactly. He just said he might be back by the time you got home."

The three of them sat down, Takumi shrugging it off.

"He's always being cryptic or going off and not telling me anything. He's probably off tuning his car."

Itsuki spoke up at the point, "He already got a new car? Wow, what's he driving?"

Takumi thought for a moment.

"I don't know, he never told me."

Kouichirou smirked, "Yeah, that sounds like your dad alright."

Kouichirou turned to Eric, motioning outside with his head.

"That's your 86 out front, right?"

Eric nodded, "It's nowhere near the level of Takumi's 86. I haven't even cracked open the hood on it yet."

The conversation then slowly turned to the technical aspects of the 86 and many other cars. After about an hour of this, Kouichirou switched the subject.

"Man, Eric. I'm surprised, from what I've heard most Americans think street racing is all about muscle and horsepower, not drifting and tuning."

Eric nodded, "Most do have that mentality, I don't. I don't know why, but just pressing the gas pedal as hard as you can never really did it for me; I always wanted more."

"You also know way more about cars than most Americans do."

"I study up on the things I love."

Itsuki jumped up made a salute towards Eric.

"I say we make Eric the Akina Speed Stars unofficial mechanic!"

Kouichirou chuckled at Itsuki's actions.

"Yeah, sure. Hey, I think I might have a sticker in my car, let me go see."

"I'll come," Eric said, "I want to take a look at your S13."

They all got up, including Takumi, and headed out to the car. Kouichirou opened the passenger side door and popped the glove box, removing a sticker from it.

"Think of it as a souvenir. It'd be pretty cool to have a member of the Speed Stars in the States though."

"Yeah," Itsuki spoke, "then we'd be the International Akina Speed Stars."

They all got a good laugh out of that when the sound of a car made them turn towards the end of the street.

"Listen to that engine, that sounds even better than a Skyline," Kouichirou said, Eric stepping in front of him.

"It sounds like a rotary engine. Highly tuned, possibly one of the newer Savannah RX-7 model rotaries."

As the car approached, Eric could make out what looked like a custom paint job on the hood. He thought it looked kind of like a bird, but he couldn't tell.

_"So it's not the Takahashi brothers. Then who could be driving a rotary?"_

The car finally came to a stop right next to them. The engine turned off and Bunta stepped out of the car. Eric didn't notice Bunta or the keys he held; his gaze was still fixed on the black car. He moved to inspect it, now able to see that the bird was actually a stylized phoenix, with gold flames low on the sides. He looked inside, noticing the rally seats, racing harness, indiglo gauges and racing pedals. Everything else was still the same, the color, the spoiler, both front and back, mirrors, headlights, muffler, everything else was the same.

Eric looked up incredulously at Bunta.

"Here," Bunta said and tossed Eric the keys to his RX-7, "the engine and suspension are right out of an FC, highly tuned for street racing, and the racing harness, rally seats and racing pedals should make it easier for you when racing. The indiglo gauges Masashi added, along with the custom paint job, hope you like it. Just don't wreck it this time. And watch the turns; this isn't a standard tune job on an RX-7, lines can change."

By this time, Kouichirou, Itsuki and even Takumi had come over to check out his RX-7, admiring the paint job and the interior. Meanwhile, Eric just stood there, gripping the keys hard while a lone tear slid down his cheek, staring right at Bunta.

"Thanks."


	10. Showtime

**_Chapter Ten: Showtime_**

**__**

"Ryosuke!"

Keisuke didn't even bother knocking as he barged into his brother's room, a piece of paper in his hand.

"What the hell is this?! Are you out of your mind?"

Keisuke slammed the sheet of paper down in front of his brother, who now looked up at his rather angry younger brother.

"You are injured, Keisuke, you can't race with a sprained wrist."

"That's not to damn point and you know it! I'm not-"

Ryosuke cut him off, "we need to find someone else to do the uphill run, Keisuke. Trust me, I know what I'm doing."

The remainder of the week had passed by quickly since that night, Eric splitting his time between working on tuning the 86 to a point where both it and Takumi could handle the new engine, some freakish engine from the now-defunct Touring A class rally engines Toyota put out a year or so back, he couldn't remember exactly, and taking his newly revamped RX-7 for laps up and down Mt. Akina. Just being behind the wheel of it again gave him chills all over. He'd take it up during the day, just to get a feel for how it felt to not only drive a second new car in the span of two months, but for what exactly Bunta and Masashi did to his machine.

"It's much more responsive than it used to be, and the new pedals, steering wheel, transmission, and shifting paddles don't hurt either."

Eric raced down Akina, going faster than the posted speed limit but not really noticing. He slowed once he hit the main streets and made his way to the Green Shopping District, parking on the side of the Fujiwara Tofu Shop.

"Hello? Anyone here?"

Bunta came out of the back, cigarette hanging from in-between his lips.

"How's the car?"

"Oh man, it rides like a dream; it's even better than when I had it tuned. Now I know why they call you the Legendary Technician of Akina."

Bunta chuckled, taking a drag from his cigarette and exhaling.

"I haven't been called that in ages. I don't race 'em anymore, I just tune 'em."

"That's my line," Eric said, looking at Bunta for a second before speaking again, "mind if I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"If someone came along who was good enough, talented enough and had the chops, would you take Akina's downhill one more time?"

Bunta took a long drag off his cigarette, holding the smoke for a second before exhaling through his nose.

"Bunta?"

"Yeah, I would. Just once more and only once more."

"So, it really never leaves you, huh?"

"Hmmm?"

"Once you race, it's in you forever, isn't it? Like some kind of inescapable destiny."

"Never really thought about destiny, but yeah, once you race, you never let it go completely."

Eric leaned against the wall of the shop and let it sink in.

"You going over to Akagi tonight for the time attack?"

"I've been thinking about it. I probably will, I guess."

"Takumi going with you?"

"Not sure really. After the 86 blowing, I'm not sure if he's ready to be around Kyoichi, much less team Emperor. I'll ask him when he gets in."

Bunta muttered an affirmative response and took another drag off his cigarette before walking back behind the counter.

"Feel free to kill some time watching television, Takumi should be home soon."

Eric did just that, taking some time to relax before tonight. A few hours later, Takumi walked in the door.

"Hey Takumi, how's it going?"

"I'm ok; the car is still giving me problems. Even with the bucket seats, improved suspension and transmission, I still can't get it under control. I just can't figure out what I'm doing wrong. I'm driving like I used to, but it's not working anymore. I've tried everything I know but the car still won't respond to me."

"Maybe it's time to try something you don't know."

Takumi thought about this while Eric stood up, grabbing his keys and wallet.

"I'm heading up to Akagi to watch the RedSuns battle with team Emperor, you coming with?"

"Nah, I really don't feel like being around any races right now."

"Fair enough, I'll tell the rest of the SpeedStars you said hi."

Eric grabbed his keys and headed out, hopping into his car and starting off towards Akagi.

The Lancer Evolution IV came to a stop just past the finish line on Akagi, Seiji Iwaki stepping out of the driver's side.

"That's gotta be the fastest run you've had this week."

Seiji smirked, "yeah, and I'm not even trying. In an hour, Keisuke Takahashi is gonna wish we never left Irohazaka."

"Don't overestimate Keisuke Takahashi; he's almost as tough as his brother."

Seiji turned around to see Kyoichi Sudoh.

"C'mon Kyoichi, he lost to the 86 that you beat, how good can he be?"

"Good enough to beat you if you don't keep your head on straight this time, remember what happened when you faced the 86?"

Seiji remembered all too well. Kyoichi had told him to use Simulation Three, wherein the Emperor member purposely trails the opponent to learn his tricks, then shoots past him and leaves them choking on the exhaust of the Lancer. Simulation Three is meant for only the toughest opponents and Seiji sorely misjudged the 86 and Takumi's abilities. Seiji lost and Kyoichi rode him for it.

"You don't have to keep reminding me. I'm not gonna screw this one up."

"You better not, or our whole plan for conquering Gunma is shot to hell, just like your rep will be."

Seiji tensed as Kyoichi walked past him and into his Lancer Evolution III and started off towards the starting line, Seiji following soon after.

Eric reached the bottom of Akagi around nine at night and already people had started to gather, including Itsuki, Kouichirou and Kenji.

"Hey, Eric!"

Eric looked over and saw the three main members of the SpeedStars walking over to him.

"Here for the big battle, huh?"

"Yep, I want to see the guy who smoked Takumi for myself."

"Speaking of Takumi," Itsuki said, looking around, "where is he?"

"He said to say hi, but he didn't want to come; still not really wanting to be around racing, y'know?"

They all nodded.

"I can't blame him," Kouichirou said, "not only losing, but blowing the engine on your car really sucks. How's work on the 86 coming?"

"Slowly, I think now its more Takumi that it is the 86, he just can't get a feel for the new engine."

They conversed for a while longer, more and more people showing up until they heard what sounded like a popping noise.

"What is that," Itsuki asked.

"Not sure Itsuki, maybe someone driving a clunker up here," Kenji said.

"Maybe someone had a blowout," Kouichirou suggested.

"It's a misfiring system. Most WRC cars have it to make up for their lack of speed in shifting in the lower gears, and the only WRC cars I know of that have misfiring systems are Lancers."

As if on cue, sets of headlights could be seen coming towards them fast. The front car was black in color, the second was white.

"They're here."

A whole line of Lancers pulled up and over to the side, the black one turning and lining up. The black one, an Evo III from what Eric could tell, had its driver side door open.

"That black one, the Evo III, is the one that beat Takumi. The guy is Kyoichi Sudoh, leader of team Emperor."

Eric nodded to Kouichirou as Kyoichi stepped out, blonde hair held in by a white bandana, brown eyes scanning around. The one driving the white Evo VI came out, looking around with a smoke in-between his lips.

"So where's my victim?"

Eric couldn't help but stare at Kyoichi. He was damn sure a good driver, he could tell that much. It was no surprise that he was the one to take Takumi out. Eric slowly glanced about before there came an audible gasp from the crowd and heads turned, Eric joining them.

"Keisuke can't make the uphill run!"

Sure enough, Keisuke and Ryosuke walked into view, Keisuke with his arm in a sling and a very dour look on his face. Seiji laughed, arms folded across his chest.

"Ha! Looks like the RedSuns have to forfeit even before they race!"

"No, we just need to find someone else to do the uphill run," Ryosuke spoke, looking around. His eyes stopped once they landed on an all too familiar black RX-7 and an all too familiar racer.

"Eric Shields, Japan was the last place I'd have expected to see you. I see you've got your RX-7 back."

Eric nodded.

"Yeah, can't take the credit for it though. What happened to Keisuke? I was looking forward to seeing him race the Evo."

"He sprained his wrist early yesterday. As you can see, the timing is horrible."

"No kidding, who's gonna do the run?"

There was a pause, the wind kicking up and ruffling both Eric and Ryosuke's hair.

"You."

Eric's eyes widened before letting out a long laugh.

"Me? I'm going to do the uphill run? Are you crazed? I don't race anymore. What part of that don't you understand?"

"Even after seeing the tape and the oil slick?"

Eric smirked, "so that was you who had the tape sent to me."

"I had a hand in it, yes."

"Why?"

"Because I'd hate to see talent like yours go to waste over a freak accident. In my years of racing there are only three people I've known who have the chops to beat me, one is my brother, the second is Takumi and the third…..you."

Ryosuke dipped his hand into his pocket and came out with a RedSuns sticker.

"Race with us and I can teach you things about your car and racing style you'd never even dream of."

Eric took the sticker and looked at it for a moment.

"You want me to ride with the RedSuns."

Ryosuke only stood there, staring at Eric.

Seiji spoke up enough so that both Ryosuke and Eric could hear.

"What? If the kid is too scared to race a real machine, let him stay there!"

Eric's mind was flooded with memories of his days as a racer.

_"At least you lost to the best of them."_

"C'mon! The kid doesn't even look old enough to have his license!"

_"A street racer never forgets, just loses his edge."_

"He couldn't hang with a real machine!"

_"You ever think maybe it wasn't your fault?"_

"Let's get this started!"

_"It really was an oil slick, Eric."_

"He couldn't possibly beat me," Seiji was leaning non-chalantly on the hood of Eric's car.

The next voice Eric heard was his father's.

_"It's cool, son. You know I'd want a quarter-mile strip of road over here any day of the week, just take his ass down."_

"With such an inferior machine," he patted the hood of Eric's RX as if to emphasize his point.

The next voice was his own.

_"Showtime."_

Eric slowly looked up at Seiji, who was practically hovering over him.

"What did you call my car?"

Seiji scoffed, "I called it inferior."

"That's what I thought you said."

Eric dipped into his pocket and fished out his crumpled racing gloves, putting them on finger by finger and strapping them onto his hand. He then lowered his arm, and slugged Seiji right in the jaw.

"Point of advice, never insult my machine."

Seiji held his chin as Eric walked over to the right rear wheel, peeling the back off the RedSuns sticker and slapping it on over the wheel, turning back to face Ryosuke and Seiji with a fire in his eyes that had been building up for two years.

"You want a driver for the uphill, Takahashi? You got one!"

Itsuki spoke up at this point, sounding about as confused as the rest of the SpeedStars looked.

"Eric, how do you know Ryosuke?"

Eric turned to face the three SpeedStars, his eyes bright with desire.

"I was that American who wrecked on this same course two years ago," he cast his gaze over at both Ryosuke and Seiji, "I've got a few fears to kill."

Eric turned to Seiji and pointed at him.

"You. Get the fuck in your fancy little Evo, I'm about to smoke you from here to Tokyo."

Ryosuke and Keisuke left right after Eric had climbed into his RX-7, leaving all of the SpeedStars mouths agape. Ryosuke stopped at turn 45, the most crucial corner on the mountain in the uphill. He climbed out, along with Keisuke, who took the sling off and tossed it onto the passenger seat, flexing his wrists and arms as he did so.

"I could have won even if I really was injured, Ryosuke, you know that."

"I know, Keisuke. You'll get your chance once this race is over. Eric doesn't represent Gunma. Once he beats Seiji, Seiji'll line up against you. But he needs to be tested before I can continue. I need to know if my suspicions are correct."

"You're really serious about wanting him to join you and me on Project D, huh?"

Ryosuke only stood there, silently staring out at the race course.

"All we can do now is wait."


End file.
